darkagesofcybertronfandomcom-20200215-history
Vortex Explores Cubicron
August 18th, 2011 Back to 2011 Logs Vortex Rancor (NPC) (Alley, Cubicron) Smoke is still hanging high above the city, the remains of El Sleazo smoldering despite the time that's passed. After the bombing, almost everyone in Cubicron is tense and on edge. There are far fewer gatherings of any kind now, people frightened of being anywhere near the next possible target. This has the (perhaps unfortunate) side effect of isolating quite a few of the residents from everyone around them, making easy targets for the less scrupulous denizens. Rancor stumbles a little as he makes his way through a back alley, cursing and kicking the piece of rubble that tripped him out of the way. "Fragging piece of slag. Slagging Vespa and slagging Fiasco and slagging El Sleazo! If this keeps up, might as slagging well take my chances on the surface with the war and the empties..." Still muttering to himself, he doesn't really pay much attention to where he's going. Vortex has been wandering Cubicron for a while. There's a feeling in the air, something's up, but he has no idea what. He hears Rancor before he sees him, and the mech's rant makes Vortex smile. He leans against the wall, looking as casual as he can, and decides the direct approach might well be the best. "It's gotta be bad," he says, "if you're considering that." Rancor jerks in surprise at Vortex's voice, looking at the other mech with obvious suspicion before it fades a little. "You must be new, then. Slagging dons blew El Sleazo to the Pit. Killed one mech, maybe more." He pauses, scowling again. "Fraggers. It's probably slagging safer up there now." "I wouldn't bet on it." Vortex gives a one-shouldered shrug. "The dead mech, was he anyone important?" "Either way's gonna kill me. Mechs getting blown up both places." Rancor shrugs as well. "Don't think so. It was just one of Vespa's mechs. Stoplight or something." Vespa isn't a name Vortex has come across before, but he's obviously important. "What's the score with the dons?" he says. He contemplates aiming his glue gun at Rancor and sticking his feet to the ground, and he might if Rancor says anything he doesn't particularly like. Rancor shrugs again, leaning against the wall next to him as he looks at Vortex warily. "Like I said, Vespa's got a mech dead. Don't know about Fiasco. Don't even know who set the bomb. Just one click everything's fine, next one..." He pauses, gesturing outward. "Boom." Vortex approves of 'boom'. "How's it gonna kill ya'?" he asks. "You don't strike me as a mech who's neck deep in their scrap." "I ain't, but they're all over the place. Know at least three folks who got real fragged up in that bombing." Rancor snorts. "Cubicron isn't a big city. People are going to start dying quick, whether or not they're involved." Vortex nods. While Rancor talks, he gives him a good long look, taking in his general appearance and estimating his speed and weight and overall health. "Is it all about territory?" he asks. Another shrug, Vortex's careful examination going unnoticed. "Frag if I know. One could just not like the color of the other's paint." Rancor shifts slightly, taking weight off his left leg- a slight crack in the knee joint just barely visible. "You hurt?" Vortex asks, putting on his best concerned voice. "That's gotta be harsh in these parts." Rancor snaps his attention back fully onto the other mech, expression shifting back to something guarded for a few moments. "...it's nothing. Just a little sore, 's all." Despite his obvious wariness, he relaxes again once Vortex doesn't make anything of it. "Don't have the credits to get it fixed up yet." "What do you do?" Vortex asks. Rancor is beginning to look half potentially useful and half like a heap of dead, grey parts waiting to happen. Vortex isn't sure which option is most appealing. "Odds and ends, mostly. Ain't a lot of steady work here." Rancor rolls his shoulders, trying to relieve the pinched wires. "You ain't from around here, are you? What brought you to this slagheap?" "Odds and ends," Vortex replies. "And information." He steps away from the wall, but doesn't press into Rancor's personal space just yet. "And seeing as you're such a helpful, talkative mech, maybe you could be of a little more assistance." Rancor cocks an optic ridge, but doesn't shift away just yet. "Can't say I'll be much help. I don't really have a lot of contacts here." "Where are you from?" Vortex asks. Interesting how the mech's got just a little bit cagey. Rancor shrugs again. "Around." "But not around here," Vortex comments, just guessing. "You see many Autobots when you're doing your odds and ends?" Rancor shifts a little uncomfortably, narrowing his optics. "I don't see many Autobots, period. There was one here after El Sleazo blew, but judging by the screaming match that went down after that, he won't be back." "Which one?" Vortex asks. Rancor is tilting the balance in favour of him surviving this particular encounter, but it entirely depends on whether or not he clams up again. "Don't know. Lifeline was slagging furious though. Could hear them yelling halfway down the block, though you couldn't really make out what they were saying." Rancor eyes Vortex warily. "I couldn't pick the Autobot out of a scrap heap." "Who's Lifeline?" Vortex asks. He brings up a few files from his hard storage, details of the situations and mechs Soundwave has instructed him to avoid. "And what did the Autobot look like?" Rancor gives Vortex an odd look, like he can't quite believe what he's hearing. "Lifeline's the main medic in town. Pretty much the only one, as most of the others work for either Fiasco or Vespa." He thinks for a moment about the Autobot he saw. "Mostly white and red, had one of those chevron things. Slagging furious, it sounded like." Ah, a medic. Well, that would be Hookshot's territory, and nothing to do with Vortex. But it's never bad to know a little about your colleagues' business, especially if they don't know it themselves. Still, that odd look doesn't pass Vortex by, and the balance tips back again towards heap of spare parts. "Do you enjoy life?" he asks pleasantly. Rancor's optic ridges draw down sharply at that, and his self preservation routines finally kick in. Stepping away from Vortex, he holds up both his hands. "I don't want any trouble. That's all I know, I swear to Primus." "I'll take that as a yes." Vortex grins under his mask, his optics growing just a little brighter. "I couldn't give a scrap about Lifeline's domestic disputes," he says, "but there's an interesting rumour going around. Something about an Autobot non-military project, something run by the medics and involving a variation of triplechanger tech. Something beginning with 'ges_'" He pronounces it just as the Autobot prisoner had, but with a rising inflection, inviting Rancor to respond. Rancor shakes his head, stepping back again and almost stumbling as his knee protests. "I don't know slag about that. I don't deal with the Autobots, I just run slag around Cubicron for whoever pays me enough not to steal it." Vortex swings his glue gun out of its holster, aims and fires, intending to stick the foot attached to Rancor's injured leg to the floor Rancor jerks back, trying to scramble out of the way and failing. "W-what the slag?!" He looks down at his trapped foot, then at Vortex, horror slowly creeping onto his face. "Oh- oh no no no no no. I swear to Primus I don't know /anything/, I'm just a runner!" "Oh?" Vortex says, walking up to Rancor and taking the mech's chin in his hand. "Then surely you'll understand the value of information as a commodity, won't you?" He holsters the gun again, and tilts Rancor’s head up. "I'm not going to scrap you..." he continues, not entirely certain whether or not he's lying. "I just want you to stay still enough to listen to me." Rancor freezes the moment Vortex touches him, vocalizer spitting static in his struggle to stay quiet. A strangled whimper escapes him when the gun moves, even if it's only getting holstered. "O-okay. Okay, I'm listening, I swear." Despite his intentions, Vortex can't help but apply a little more pressure than he should when holding Rancor's head in place. "'Ges'," he says. "It's the beginning of a word. An Autobot secret project. If they bring it to completion, they won't just come after Polyhex and Kaon, they'll go for a softer target first, a target that's always been a hive of the kind of enlightened individualism the Autobots love to hate." He loosens his grip just a little. "They'll come after Cubicron and raze it to the ground. Your livelihood - your life - gone... You don't want that, do you?" Another quiet whimper, and Rancor nods as best he can under Vortex's grip. "I-I know. I don't want that, I don't want to even be /involved/ in this slagging war, that's why I stay down here." He shifts uncomfortably, trying to relieve some of the pressure on his injured knee. "W-what do you want me to do?" "Listen to people," Vortex responds. "Find out what this 'ges' thing is. Tell me the rumours and the gossip. And maybe..." He releases Rancor's head and crouches to run a finger roughly along the crack at his knee. "...you won't have to worry about this any more." Rancor manages to muffle the whimper this time, nodding almost frantically. "I-I can do that. People don't really notice me. I can do that." He twitches slightly when Vortex touches the crack, pain sparking across the sensors there in response. It would take far more willpower than Vortex possesses not to poke that wound again after Rancor's amusing response, so Vortex does. "Designation?" he demands. The second poke draws another twitch followed by a burst of static, but Rancor somehow manages force it down enough to speak. "R-Rancor." "I won't expect you to tell me where you live," Vortex says, as Rancor looks like he needs the illusion of safety right now. "Where can you usually be found?" "S-shopping district. Lots of folks over there who have things to move." Rancor answers, looking at Vortex nervously. "Sometimes over by the factories. I'll go all over if I get a job, though." That's good enough for Vortex. He kicks the dried goop around Rancor's trapped foot, forcing the material to crack, then takes a small step back and waits for Rancor to run. Rancor hesitates for a moment, looking at Vortex like he's still amazed he isn't deactivated. His sense finally overtakes his amazement, and he takes off down the alley toward the main road, not even glancing back. Category:LogsCategory:2011 LogsCategory:Vortex's Logs